The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 11 / Masterpieces of German Literature Translated Into English

by Unknown

He soon recognized, however, that he could not sit down at once to begin the manuscript of the "Book of Hunger." Now that he was physically at rest the tumult in his soul began and the ghosts, once roused, made a mockery of all attempts to lay them. For three days Hans remained locked in his room, thought over the gain and the loss of the past year and arrived at the result that the gain exceeded the loss. On the evening of the third day the weather improved and he went out to get some fresh air. Naturally his way led him to Park Street past the house of the Privy Councillor. It looked unutterably dead and lifeless to Hans. Shivering, he hurried home and tried to begin his manuscript, but after a good hour he laid the first page of his "book" aside with no mark on it but three crosses that he had drawn. The next morning he wrote one page, but tore it up again in the evening. On the twentieth of October he tore up the first sheet of the manuscript and found himself in a mood which did not justify "high hopes for the future." He also counted his supply of money and gradually the conviction dawned in his mind that one of the main wings of his castle in the air was near collapse and that the foundation of the building was insecure.

On the twenty-first of October the postman brought him a letter which upset him completely and made the completion of the manuscript altogether questionable. For the second time Uncle Nik'las Grünebaum called him to a deathbed, this time to that of faithful Auntie Schlotterbeck. At five the next morning Hans was on his way to Neustadt, that is to say, at this early hour, some time before the departure of his train, he stood shivering in front of the iron garden gate in Park Street, taking dumb leave of the Privy Councillor's house. Fränzchen still slept and dreamt. In her dream she heard a noise like that of the sea and some one whom she did not recognize in her dream, said it was the sea.

The following morning Hans arrived in Neustadt. He had made the last part of the way on foot. Now he stood in front of the door of his house and stared into the hall and saw four candles burning round a coffin. Auntie Schlotterbeck was dead and had left greetings and many messages for him with Uncle Grünebaum. The coffin had been closed that morning and the funeral was to be at four in the afternoon. Everything had gone on as it should and still Hans could not comprehend that it must be so.

There was Uncle Grünebaum. At first he did not recognize his nephew; he had become a decrepit, half childish old man, sat in the corner and whined and asked for Auntie. It was only gradually that he came to a clearer consciousness of the events of the last few days.

Auntie Schlotterbeck had passed away gently and without pain after impressing on Uncle Grünebaum to tell Hans that she had loved him very, very much, that he had always been in her thoughts, that he could never leave her thoughts and that in her eternal life she would pray for him that it might go well with him in his life on earth. Moreover, she had said to tell him that the thing about which he was now worrying would end well though she could not say in what way.

A remarkable number of people accompanied Auntie Schlotterbeck to the grave and Hans led Uncle Grünebaum directly behind the hearse. After the funeral many came to shake hands with the mourners.

When Johannes and his uncle were once more at home Uncle Grünebaum sat down in Auntie Schlotterbeck's armchair and went to sleep with grief and fatigue.

For the first time Hans was left to himself and sat looking about in the room. His father's glass globe was in its place and the rays of the evening sun fell upon it. In the dusk Uncle Grünebaum suddenly rose up out of his chair, called all shoemakers together in a strangely uncanny voice, took farewell of Hans, greeted Auntie Schlotterbeck and collapsed as he spoke the words: "Amen, the boot is finished." He had followed Auntie Schlotterbeck.

And again Hans stood on God's acre, but this time he was quite alone. The few who had followed the hearse had dispersed. Beneath the mounds lay the guardians of his youth and he would have liked to go down after them into the depths.

But out of the gloom and the depression that surrounded him there came a gentle figure. This figure held him back and for her sake he said that his time was not yet come.